


Important Dates in History

by JudeAraya



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Coming Out, Dad Jokes, First Pride, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Meet-Cute, Mistaken Identity, Misunderstanding, You'll thank me later, small mention of past bullying, small metions of anxiety and depression
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-28
Updated: 2020-06-28
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:22:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24962227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JudeAraya/pseuds/JudeAraya
Summary: Dan’s spent his gap year spinning his wheels; stuck working at Asda and living at home, the only thing really going for him is his new best (online) friend AmazingFilly. Even though Dan’s only come out to himself and Filly, he decides to travel to London alone for his first Pride. When he meets a gorgeous boy who asks him on a date, Dan takes the plunge. Thank god he has a best friend to talk him through his fears as he takes on his first potential relationship.
Relationships: Dan Howell/Phil Lester
Comments: 22
Kudos: 106
Collections: Phandom Reverse Bang 2020





	Important Dates in History

**Author's Note:**

> ***this fic has been nominated for Best LGBTQ+ fic in the Phanfic Awards 2020 (thanks guys!). If you want to vote for it before Jan 15th, head over [here](https://phanficawards.tumblr.com/post/638591775241633792/)! ***
> 
> Written for the Phandom Reversebang. Many thanks to anironsidh for the wonderful moodboard they created for both me and [counting2fifteen](https://counting2fifteen.tumblr.com/) who was not only a GREAT beta for this fic, but also wrote their own [fic](https://counting2fifteen.tumblr.com/post/621993936783835136/) for this prompt. 
> 
> Here is a link to the art post bc Ao3 is giving me a hard time and won't let me embed! [mood board](https://anironsidh.tumblr.com/post/621993526691020800/)
> 
> Massive thanks to Jane for britpicking and Mandy and Puddle for the handholding and cheerleading!

The thing was, Dan had no idea what to expect. And he kind of hated that. Sure, if you asked any of his purported friends about this they’d laugh their faces off because Dan did tend to make impulsive decisions. But that was different. Because this wasn’t an impulse. 

Choosing to come to London, alone, for his first ever Pride, was something he’d agonized over for months. There were so many factors to consider: asking for time off at work, saving money for the trip and for food. Figuring out what lie to tell his parents. Oh and. The thing. 

The _thing_. 

The fact that he’d only ever sort of come out to one person before and that person was a stranger on the internet. Dan was barely out to _himself_ , so he was more than shocked when, late one night, in a haze of exhaustion and still recovering from a massive hangover and vague memories of making out with a very pretty boy at a party, he confessed to his friend Filly that he might not be...totally straight. 

He’d met _AmazingFilly_ through a reddit post Dan had made about his favorite MMO, Midnight Hunter, months ago, just hours after it’s new evolution had been unveiled. Dan _might_ have gone on a _tiny_ rant about the ridiculous glitches needing patching and the ludicrous overpowering of particular weapons that a lot of fans had _not_ appreciated. 

A lot of fans other than Filly, who had found Dan’s sarcasm hilarious and his obviously _correct_ criticisms valid. Dan had seen his posts in various subreddits, and after Filly had backed Dan up with several other valid points, they’d begun interacting more and more, until one day he had asked Dan if he’d like to chat elsewhere. 

Dan would never confess to anyone he knew IRL, but days into conversation with Filly he could tell he’d found someone who could be a _real_ friend. The kind of friend Dan had never had before. The kind of friend you come out to when you’re too scared to even think about your own sexuality for more than five minutes at a time. Sure, they didn’t know each other’s names—Filly had quickly shorted Dan’s ludicrous handle— _thedisnotonfire_ —to Fire. He knew Filly lived in Manchester, and that he was a few years older than Dan. Dan knew how Filly felt about the transition into becoming an adult after university. He knew what games Filly liked and that Filly was gay. He knew how listening to Muse made Filly feel late at night when he was alone. Hell, he knew that Filly was lonely. 

They each knew a thousand things about how they felt, about their fears and hopes, and only the barest bones about the technicalities of each other’s lives. And Dan liked that. It made him feel safe, and a little anonymous, and late at night, apparently, comfortable with coming out. Kinda. 

The woman next to him on the train tried to politely start a conversation with him about ten minutes into the trip. “Where are you headed off to?” she asked. 

Of course, in a panic, and in an epic show of social failure, Dan responded “I’m fine, how are you?” before burying himself in his phone. She took one look at his shaking hands and nodded. Despite his total failure at basic conversation, she gave him a kind smile. His hands were sweating and his heart was pounding so hard he could feel it in his throat; he knew that neither his response nor his anxiety made sense. No one going to Pride would know him, he was safe enough. It still _felt_ monumental though. 

He thumbed back over his conversation with Filly from the night before. 

_I *want* to go_

_so go_

_what if i’m not ready?_

_to go or…?_

Dan remembered taking a deep breath. Filly had been so patient with him, listening as Dan talked through the same thing over and over. He knew Filly thought he was talking about Reading Pride and despite having told Filly about what a shithole his hometown experience was, Dan hadn’t wanted to confess to being so scared he was actually going to London Pride, which felt safely far away. And cooler in general.

_both? I mean if i go i’m basically admitting it_

_to yourself?_

_it sounds stupid when you put it like that_

_I didn’t put it anyway you fork! I’m just being the q guy_

_q guy?_

_you know, the guy who asks questions until a person like, figures shit out. IDK._

_also, *fork*?!?_

_better than a knife_

_LMAO 4 rl. But srsl._

_Listen, it seems like you’ve at least kinda come out to yourself._

_yes obvs or how else would you know_

_Shut up you spoon!_

_rude!_

_anyway. I say, if you want to go, you should. Pride is *awesome*. My first pride in Manchester was the first time I ever felt at home, in a weird way._

_in community? Bc i don’t even know what i’d say i *am*_

_i mean a little, but also…._

_keeping me in suspense here_

_it sounds really dumb_

_we’ve established that we’re cutlery here, what’s dumber_

_Touche. Ok. you can’t laugh! I felt at home with me._

_yeah?_

_R u laughing?_

_no that was...good. sounds nice_

Dan locked his phone, not wanting to drain the battery too much if he was going to spend an entire day in London. He rather thought he’d want music for company on his way home, either to escape his brain or to help him decompress. There were going to be a _lot_ of people there and Dan wasn’t always good with a lot of people. 

God, what if he got lost? He’d only been to London a few times, and never alone. He wasn’t sure where to go really, other than what the parade route was. Dan had carefully mapped how to get there from the train station; he had saved enough money to take a taxi if he absolutely needed. A silver lining to this whole ‘going alone’ thing was that he could leave whenever he wanted. 

He could run away. 

Like he’d been running away from thinking about or acknowledging himself for a long time. 

Like he was saving to run away from Wokingham the minute he figured his life out. 

_Silver lining, Dan_ he chastised himself. He wasn’t generally a silver lining kind of guy, but Filly had told him once how redirecting negative thoughts by finding the silver lining helped his anxiety. Not that it always prevented his anxiety attacks, but he’d insisted that a positive frame of mind did help. 

That night had been the first time anyone had ever talked to him openly about their mental health. Had made it seem like a fact, just another part of who they were. Dan knew that there was...something. About him. He didn’t want to call it depression, just like he could barely handly calling himself gay. There was a permanence to labels that scared the shit out of Dan. That felt final. 

That taunted him with truth. Dan rather thought that kind of commitment probably meant properly sorting his life out. 

He’d taken to thinking of his episodes, the times when he couldn’t get out of bed, when the world lost color and food lost taste and Dan lost the energy to function on a basic level as being ‘low’. He’d wanted, badly, to tell Filly about them. But he reckoned that was a heavy conversation to lay on an internet friend, and besides, what could Filly tell him other than what he knew—that if it were really bad enough, he could get help for it. But it wasn’t _that_ bad. Dan was sure others must have had it so much worse. At least now he wasn’t in school any more, so the very worst thoughts had eased a little. 

It was easier to fake a smile, even on the internet, when you were the only person in the room hating yourself. 

Still, he tried Phil’s silver lining approach from time to time. Not when he was low, but when his thoughts were spiralling or when he was catastrophizing. Dan told himself he could leave whenever he wanted and it wouldn’t be running away. It would just be finding a new location where he’d feel more comfortable. 

Dan snorted, causing the woman next to him to look at him in alarm. He checked the time on his phone, shocked to find they were roughly ten minutes from arrival. Dan’s heart rate kicked right back up. He resisted the urge to mess with his hair. He reminded himself that he was going because he wanted to feel _good_. To finally feel okay with who he was. To surround himself with people who also felt good about who they were. 

Dan was scared, but also, he was tired. He’d fought himself for a long, long time. The truth was, he was lonely. He had isolated himself in a fortress of self-recrimination and fear and he didn’t _want_ that anymore. Sure, he wasn’t ready to be out and proud in his real life, but maybe somewhere else he could be someone else.

* * *

Hours later, Dan wasn’t sure he could have described fear if paid. Elation? Contagious happiness? Something fizzing and brilliant and happy that bubbled up through the exhaustion of several hours navigating an unfamiliar city alone? Even ears ringing from the music and cheering and the constant chatter of people everywhere, Dan felt light and… _right_. Like he was exactly where he was supposed to be. 

Hell, he’d even conversed with strangers. Dan hadn’t made any real plans for the day, allowing himself the freedom to leave any moment if he wanted to, but also leaving room for fun, for impulse. For being someone he normally never was. 

Hours into the day Dan found himself standing by a barricade, squashed in a loud group of ”friends” who’d sort of glomped on to him and adopted him when they’d noticed him lingering alone. 

“Oh my… _wow._ ”

“Fuck, yeah, right mate?” Sean— _Sean?_ —his new friend said. Well, shouted. He was about half a foot shorter than Dan, thin as a rail, cheering and laughing as a very fit, very… glistening...man in suspenders and short black boy-shorts leaned over the barricade to give Sean’s boyfriend a lollipop and a hug. Dan’s cheeks went a brilliant red when the man shot him a cheeky wink, and Sean’s boyfriend Greg—god Dan really hoped that was his name, but honestly he’d been given names quickly and right as a huge float absolutely blaring music had gone past—poked Dan in the arm with his lolly. 

“Maybe you should take it?” 

“What-no—” Dan held up his hands. They all laughed kindly, not the sort of jeering laughter Dan had learned to associate with moments like this. 

“It isn’t a marriage proposal, yeah? Take it.” 

Dan did, face still flushed hot, and even accepted the kiss on the cheek Sean offered, saying he was passing it along. It was all in good fun, and when one of Sean’s friends snapped a picture of both Sean and Greg kissing one of his cheeks each, Dan didn’t even protest. He’d never see these people again, but it didn’t actually seem to matter all that much. What mattered was the near incandescent happiness he felt in solidarity at that very moment.

* * *

An hour later, he’d lost his new friends as they’d gone off to meet with some friends who’d been in the parade earlier. They’d invited Dan for drinks with them but he’d declined, saying he had committments elsewhere as well. His might have been a lie, but he did manage to exchange information with some of them. Dan wandered the booths by Trafalgar square, phone heavy in his pocket, and pretended for a moment that he’d keep in touch with them.

It was a nice daydream.

* * *

An hour after that, Dan was agonizing over a deep-seated desire to buy some sort of merch to celebrate his first Pride, all the while knowing he’d just be shoving it deep in a drawer once he got home, when he saw _him_. 

Dan had seen some beautiful men over the course of the day. He’d seen interesting ones, outrageous ones, almost naked ones; hell he’d even seen a man with a kitten in his pocket, although he wasn’t sure that wasn’t just London oddity and not directly Pride related. In all of the noise and the crush of people and dizzying rush of the day, only one man had _really_ made a lasting impression. Dan had seen him on a float; he couldn't have said for what or whom, honestly, because all he’d seen was a shock of messy jet black hair, lovely pale skin. A boy with a smile that was endearingly sweet and ebullient with the brightest blue eyes. 

He’d known about the eyes, despite the distance, because for some reason when he’d looked at this man, he’d looked right back at Dan. _Right. At. Him._ And for the small measure of time their eyes could hold, they did. It was a handful of breaths, too loud but very few heartbeats, and a long, suspended pause in which Dan felt everything fade away. 

“Mate,” Sean had shouted, jostling Dan by the shoulder. “You’ve met him!!” 

“Who?” Dan had said stupidly. 

“The man of your dreams!” 

“Oi, shut up,” Dan had laughed it off, then looked back over his shoulder but he—whoever he was—was gone. 

Only now he _wasn’t_ because he was two feet from Dan and Dan was fourteen seconds from shitting himself. He hadn’t been spotted yet, which meant Dan could: 

a) find a way to get mystery guy’s attention (whether through an imaginary smooth intro or some sort of massive and more likely Dan-fail)  
b) stand there shitting himself or  
c) run away and stew in a mass of overthinking regret. 

Well, he wasn’t quite shitting himself, but he came pretty close to option B when the stranger turned and locked eyes with him. Dan knew instantly he’d been recognized by the way they rounded with delight, and by the smile—fuck it was a really beautiful smile—that bloomed over his whole face. 

By the grace of gods that did not exist, Dan did not shit himself. 

“It’s you!” the stranger said happily. 

“Me?” Dan asked rather stupidly. 

“Oh, oops, that...wow that’s awkward,” mystery guy said. 

“No!” Dan jumped in as soon as the look of embarrassment began to cross the guy’s face. “It’s me! And you! _Fuck_ , wow I’m so awk-” 

“I’m Phil.” Phil stuck his hand out, which Dan took automatically. 

“I’m Dan,” Dan said, looking down and away for a moment. Phil’s hand was soft and his handshake just right. Non-threatening but not unsure either. Dan knew he should offer something else, a conversational gambit of some sort to keep the conversation going. Unfortunately, Dan sucked at this sort of thing. 

“Did I interrupt?” Phil gestured at Dan’s hand, where he had a rainbow pin in hand. _Queer people exist_ was written in white script on it. 

“Oh! No. I was, er, being indecisive,” Dan said.

“That’s probably a good thing. I have terrible self-restraint when it comes to buying random things at events,” Phil admitted with a quiet, self-deprecating laugh. 

“I might have too much self-restraint,” Dan admitted. “Well, I mean. With buying.” His cheeks were hot, and he knew they were probably brilliant red again at the implication of his words. “Oh my fuck, I really am terrible at this.” Mortified, Dan covered his face with his hand.

Phil just laughed again. “No. It’s really cute.” 

“Ohmygod, shut up,” Dan said, pushing Phil’s shoulder in what really could only be called a flirtatious or overly friendly gesture. He felt his own smile, despite his embarrassment, spread too wide on his own face. Someone behind him bumped him accidentally—it was rather crowded—and Dan realized just how much space he and Phil were taking up. They were blocking people who might actually be willing to pay for things without the amount of mental gymnastics Dan had been putting himself through. He put the pin back in its bin reluctantly. He didn’t want to walk away from the conversation, not really, because despite how utterly fail he was, Phil didn’t seem put off by it. 

“Fancy a coffee?” Phil blurted out. Dan’s eyes widened. Phil’s expression was hopeful, and his hand on Dan’s arm, guiding him out of the booth and away from the crowd of people, was gentle but sure. Was this really his life? 

“Yeah, definitely,” Dan said because really, when pretending to be a whole different person in a city that didn’t know his name, how could he ever refuse an opportunity to get to know a beautiful stranger who had remembered his face in a crowd of thousands.

* * *

“So,” Phil started, sitting on one side of a tiny couch in a packed Starbucks he’d steered Dan toward. Dan sat next to him. There was nowhere else to sit, honestly they’d been lucky to even catch seats just as they’d been vacated. “What’s your story?” 

“That’s a big one,” Dan said. “What’s yours?” 

“Touché. The complex life of Phil would take years to explain really,” Phil said in what Dan thought was probably a joking tone. So close, Dan noted that his eyes weren’t actually blue, but tricolored, blue highlighted by green and yellow. He’d never seen eyes like that. 

“Pick a strand,” Dan suggested. 

“Um…” Phil bit took a large swig of what had to be a still too hot coffee. Dan couldn’t believe Phil had ordered hot coffee at all. Even in the aircon of Starbucks Dan was still sweating from the heat outside. He was sure his hair was a frizzing mess but he’d been trying not to think about that. “Well, my friends invited me to join them in the parade and then totally ditched me after.” 

“That fuckin’ sucks,” Dan said. 

Phil shrugged. “I’ll see them later. I’m not even sure if it was on purpose? I kind of suck at social situations sometimes.” 

Dan laughed and quickly caught himself. “I’m not laughing at you, I swear! I’m just...well I think I’ve already proved that’s me.” 

“Aw, not really,” Phil said. Too kindly really.

“No, absolutely, I am.” 

“Where are your friends then?” Phil asked. “The ones you were with.” 

“Oh,” Dan said. _Fuck_. Should he admit what an absolute dork he was to a complete stranger he kind of already fancied way too much? “They had other places to be. I wasn’t ready to leave yet. Does wandering around by myself make me a loser?” 

Phil messed with his fringe. “If it does, then I am too. We can be losers together if you want.” 

Dan watched Phil’s fingers, wondering if Phil’s hair was as soft as it looked. Phil had the kind of hair Dan aspired to but could never achieve. Not with its texture and curl. “I suppose I could suffer through it,” he said, smiling so Phil would know he was kidding. People couldn’t always read his sarcasm. 

Phil nudged his shoulder against Dan’s. When he smiled, he caught his tongue between his teeth. It was a completely different smile to the others Dan had seen. God, he really was already hopelessly smitten. 

“Twenty questions?” Phil asked. 

“Is this how you initiate people into this loser club?” Dan asked. 

“Will it work?” 

“To be honest, almost anything would work right now,” Dan admitted before taking a huge gulp of his coffee to hide his face. Who was he even, saying things like that to a complete stranger? 

“All right then,” Phil squared his shoulders, not bothering to hide how delighted he was by Dan’s candor. “I’ll go easy on you to start. Favorite color.” 

“Really, Phil?” Dan rolled his eyes. 

“I said I was starting easy,” Phil defended. “I’m disarming you.” 

Dan smiled and resisted the urge to squirm. Phil’s eyes never left his. “Consider me disarmed,” he muttered. “And, black.” 

“Black?” 

“Yes. Black. Yours?” 

Phil tilted his head, then pressed his knee against Dan’s. “Blue.”

* * *

It was fully dark out before Dan even thought to check his phone. The table in front of their small couch was covered in the detritus of their long conversation. Multiple cups of coffee, crumb scattered muffin wrappers, napkins. Despite said muffins, Dan’s stomach had growled, loudly, interrupting the middle of a heated debate about Pokemon evolutions. 

“Oh gosh, it’s late,” Phil had said, “Hey, would you want to grab actual food?” 

Which was when Dan saw that it was already nine o’clock. “Oh fucking _fuck-balls_ ,” Dan said. “Shit, I’m so sorry, I can’t.” 

“Oh, okay,” Phil said, but his eyes darted away. Dan wanted so badly to touch his hand to reassure him. 

“I _want_ to,” he said. Phil’s eyes came back to meet his.

“Really?” And, _oh_ , who could ever resist that? The look of hope and tentative excitement and god, was this even real? That this guy, who was hilarious and weird and gorgeous and older and way out of Dan’s league actually _wanted_ to see him again? And to boot, he seemed totally unafraid to hide it? 

Dan took a deep breath and summoned the courage to speak with the amount of sincerity he really felt. “Yeah. Really.” 

Phil’s eyes truly lit up and Dan could feel his own smile, stupidly big and way too genuine. He could feel heat spreading across his cheeks and knew that the spot on his cheek was flushing red like it did when he was really feeling something. He wanted to hide all of this behind his hands. There was something between them that felt big and amazing but scary. Dan wasn’t used to being able to show how he really felt. What might have been normal interaction between two interested parties left him feeling intensely vulnerable. 

“It’s just, I have to work really early in the morning, and I have to catch the train.” 

“Oh? I never asked where you live.” Phil was gathering the trash from their table, but when he stood he managed to trip over his own feet, spilling the little coffee left at the bottom of one of their cups all over Dan’s jeans. “Oh, shit, oh my gosh I am so sorry.”

In the space of a second Dan took in a shit ton of sensory information. The feeling of Phil’s hand on his shoulder (much warmer than he would have anticipated) and the weight of his body as he tried not to fall (heavier than he looked). The way he smelled, sweaty but also lightly citrusy (delicious AF). 

“Don’t,” Dan cleared his throat, “don’t worry about it.” 

“But it’s on your jeans.” Phil was now clumsily trying to wipe the coffee off of Dan’s _thigh_ with a napkin, oh _god_ , which presented a series of problems, the least of which was that Phil was now holding everything in one hand. For lack of better options, Dan put his hand on Phil’s to stop him while also reaching up to grab some of what he was holding. 

“Here, let me help,” he said. Phil nodded and stood, but was very quiet as they cleared their mess. He walked out of the shop with Dan. 

“Phil?” Dan finally said. They stood just outside and to the left of the doors. 

“I really am sorry, god I am such a clumsy sod,” Phil said, then covered his eyes. “You must think me—” 

“Phil, it’s fine!” Dan interrupted. He pulled back Phil’s words from earlier. “It’s...actually it’s kind of cute.” 

“What?” Phil shot him a look Dan couldn’t decipher. Dan’s heart felt like it might actually fall out of his chest it was beating so hard. He’d _never_ do this normally but tonight, he reminded himself, he was London Dan. 

“I don’t know. You’re so...you.” He waved his hand in Phil’s general direction. “It’s nice to know you’re not like, perfect.” 

“Oh, my god, Dan, shut up,” Phil said with a shy laugh, pushing Dan’s shoulder like he had hours earlier. Dan felt the warmth from the touch, fleeting as it was. He wanted to ask Phil to never stop. Dan kicked at the pavement. He had never hated Asda more than this moment because he really did have to go or he’d be in real danger of falling asleep at work _again_ if he didn’t. “Well, I guess…” he knew he had to say goodnight but could not bring himself to. 

“I know you have to go, which freaking, sucks,” Phil said. “But maybe...would you like to go to dinner some time?” Phil was messing with his hair again. Dan noticed a fine tremor in his fingers. Despite being so much older than Dan and being like, literally the coolest person Dan had met, ever, Dan could tell Phil was actually kind of...scared to ask him out. 

Which didn’t do anything to calm his heart rate but did do a lot for his confidence. 

“I would really, really like that,” he said. Phil’s smile was so sincere and kind, and Dan thought of all the people he knew at home. How even with the ones he’d call friends when they were in school he never felt safe being himself without walls. Infatuation wasn’t new to him, but the kind that made him feel _safe_ was. But that was a thought to dissect later because right now, in the present, this beautiful man he’d met by chance was asking for his phone so they could exchange numbers and Dan was present but also sort of out of body enjoying the utter insanity of the whole thing. 

“I guess, like, call me? Or text me?” Phil was saying, mouth quirked, still adorably shy in a way that was making Dan melt. 

“Yeah. Yes,” Dan said. With conviction. And a swooping excitement bubbling inside him he’d never felt before. And then. 

Well. 

Then Phil hugged him. And yeah, it was just a hug but...but Dan felt every bit of that touch down to his bones. He knew now that he hadn’t imagined that Phil smelled of citrus, because with his face so close to Phil’s hair Dan could tell came from his shampoo. Dan couldn’t help but cling a little because, wow, Phil gave amazing hugs. It had been ages since Dan had a good, simple hug. Eventually, Dan forced himself to pull away, not wanting to look too desperate. 

“Sorry,” he mumbled. 

“For what?” Phil asked. Dan had no idea how to articulate “for being too needy” without looking like an utter tool, so he just shrugged. Phil smiled at him. “I have a policy.” 

“What?” 

“A hug policy. I never let go first. You never know when someone might really need a hug.” 

Dan looked away, unsure why such simple words felt so big, tightening in his chest. A suspicious prickling in his eyes made him turn away and blink. “I guess I really needed a hug,” he admitted, voice a tiny bit shredded. 

“Want another one?” Phil asked, so quietly and with such kindness it hurt. “For the road?” 

“If I say yes, will you like, pity me?” Dan asked. 

“No you spoon,” Phil said with a laugh, reeling Dan in for another hug. “I’ll think I’m pretty lucky, because I totally could use more hugs from you.” 

God, how did he do that? How was Phil so comfortable with a near stranger, saying things like that? 

Dan didn’t ask. Instead, he tucked his face into Phil’s neck and held on and wished. Wished that this wasn’t a dream. That somehow, Phil might call him, even though Dan was pretty sure he wouldn’t. London Dan wasn’t real. None of this was, in a way. This hug and this feeling were absolutely real and he needed to be sure he took in every sense-memory to hold on to for a long time. 

Dan’s phone buzzed in his pocket, a reminder that there was a world outside the bubble he was making just then, and that he had to go. 

“I’m sorry I have to go,” he said finally, speaking quietly into Phil’s neck where his skin was warm and soft. Phil shivered. 

“Me too,” Phil said. Dan pulled away. “But I’ll see you again?” 

There was a note of uncertainty to his voice. Dan smiled with as much false confidence as he could muster. Of _course_ if Phil called him Dan would come _running_ —via train of course—but he didn’t need to demonstrate that much desperation. “Absolutely.” 

“Do you need me to walk—” Phil started. Dan shook his head quickly. He didn’t want London Dan to end. He didn’t want Phil to know who Dan really was. A kid in his gap year with no direction, stuck living at home with his parents in a town he hated, in a town that hated him. 

“Nah, I’ll just grab a taxi I think,” he said. “I’m wrecked.” He hoped this conveyed a believable level of exhaustion that would explain why on earth he’d be willing to pay a ridiculous sum for a ride when he could just find a tube entrance and figure his way home from there. Honestly, he _was_ so tired he’d probably end up in entirely the wrong area. 

“I’ll call you then,” Phil said, wide smiled, happiness etched into the smile lines around his eyes. 

“I’ll answer,” Dan promised. He’d probably never have the courage, personally, to call Phil once he got home and shed London Dan, but he sure as fuck would answer should Phil ever call him. He gave Phil a jaunty and frankly ludicrous two-fingered salute he was pretty sure he’d never done in real life, winced at himself through Phil’s sweet laughter, and walked away from one of the best days of his life.

* * *

He got home late, much too late, and was an absolute zombie through his entire shift at Asda the next day. Luckily he got home too late for his parents to still be up. He was obviously old enough that they didn’t make him justify or ask permission for where he went, but they would be curious or at least maybe check in. Well, his mum would, depending on her mood. Both of his parents were at work when he got home from work, half blind and aching for bed. The house was quiet, which meant Adrian was probably with their Nan. Thank god. Peace. Quiet. 

Dan was asleep as soon as his head hit his pillow, still in his horrific Asda shirt, one foot dangling off the edge of his bed. 

He woke near dusk to a knock on his door. 

“Dan?” 

“Come in,” he croaked, then cleared his throat. His mum opened the door but didn’t come in further. His room was pretty small and there were clothes strewn everywhere. She was also pretty good about respecting that his room was his space and giving him privacy. 

“You look terrible,” she said, blunt as always. 

“Thanks,” Dan was too busy rubbing the sleep from his eyes and wondering how badly he’d just fucked his sleep schedule. 

“We’re having dinner tonight,” she said. They didn’t really have family dinner together very often, with everyone often doing their own thing. And with the heavy silence that tended to sit in the middle of the table, oppressive and impossible to speak through. “Would you like to join?” 

Silence or not, Dan was absolutely starving. He’d not really eaten dinner the night before, what with the debacle of getting home. He’d barely shovelled coffee and a questionably stale muffin into his mouth on his way out the door to work this morning and, of course, he’d fallen asleep once he’d come home. 

“Yeah. Now?” 

“Ten minutes or so.” She was already closing his door. By the time he’d thanked her, quietly, the door was shut. He shrugged, then got up to peel himself out of his work clothes and into something softer and more comfortable. His phone was dead, which fucking sucked, because it made it impossible to compulsively check it for messages from Phil. Not that he’d have any already. Or like, maybe ever. Then again, maybe it was a good thing. He could eat in silence without obsessing over his phone. His dad _hated_ when Dan got on the phone at the table. 

He ate as quickly as he could, both because Adrian and his father were having a tense exchange about something shitty Adrian had purportedly said to Nan—Dan doubled it was truly that bad, considering that Adrian loved their Nan almost as much as Dan—but Adrian was being a right shit at this moment, which wasn’t helping. 

His phone was charged enough to turn on when he came back up, thank _god_ and holy _shitballs_ did he have a flood of notifications once he got it up and running. One from an old mate who wanted to catch a drink later—no, because Dan didn’t have any desire to get shitfaced and make an ass of himself in order to overcome the weird feelings hanging out with old friends gave him. Three from Shane, asking if he could tag Dan in pictures on Facebook and if so what was his Facebook. He’d also shared said pictures and then asked if Dan got home all right. 

Dan stared at the photos for a long time, examining them carefully. He looked so _happy_ and so free. And...like he belonged? Like he actually knew these people. Tears prickled in his eyes. A message from a near stranger Dan had spent an amazing day with him hit so much harder, so much brighter, than an invitation to spend time with someone he’d known for _years_. That said some pretty sad shit about Dan’s life he didn’t really feel like thinking about. 

And then there was the whole Facebook issue. Dan _hated_ to have to admit this to Shane, who had been so bright and whose boyfriend had made Dan laugh and whose friends had laughed and sung along to the songs of passing floats with him, but he wasn’t out, and he definitely could _not_ tag Dan. A deep part of him was scared that Shane would judge him, call him a closet case, say any number of awful things to him. Dan was kind of used to people being shit to him in general, and it seemed a much more real and present possibility in his tiny brown room in fucking Wokingham. 

But fuck, Shane had actually texted and Dan had not expected that at all. Dan couldn’t deny that it was nice that there were people in the world who knew something real about Dan. Who might actually want to...talk. He’d have to be honest though, because otherwise there was no point. 

_im sorry i uh…_ Dan took a deep breath, _the thing is i’m kinda not...out?_

He was in the middle of typing out a stupidly long justification, deleting and rewriting when Shane texted back.

 _OMG no worries. Do you not want me to post these? That’s totally cool_

Dan smiled and lay back on his bed. 

_no it’s okay we don’t know the same ppl_ He smiled at the XD he got in return. _thanks 4 not judging_

Maybe it was odd how it was always easier to be open with strangers when there were screens between him and them. Safer. When he was faceless and there was no chance they might be able to read the real emotions behind his words. 

_never apolgize. I get it. U don’t have t2 come out til ur ready_

Well, at least Dan wasn’t the only person who sent texts with uncorrected typos. He thought suddenly of Filly, who he hadn’t messaged in over 24 hours. They talked pretty much every day, often late into the night. Since he hadn’t exactly admitted he _had_ gone to Pride—not wanting to disappoint him in case he didn’t go—Filly probably thought he was dead or something. 

Sure enough he had 15 unread Skype messages, the first three of which were 100% Filly conversation openers. 

_I tripped over a shoe_

_and hurt my thumb_

_I’m not even sure how, I didn’t fall. And it wasn’t my shoe._

_Fire? U there?_

The timestamps showed a long lag between messages until this morning, after which there were increasingly worried ones every few hours, the last of which was a few minutes ago. 

_fuck i’m sorry_ Dan texted quickly. _i lost my phone_. 

He winced. It wasn’t even true and Dan hated this about himself, his tendency to lie to get out of a situation. Half of the time there wasn’t even a situation in the first place. He wasn’t sure why he didn’t want to tell Filly about Pride. It was just...a lot. With the new friends-ish. And meeting a hot, hilarious, silly guy who he may or may not be hearing from soon. 

_omg i thought u were dead!_

_eee sorry!_

Dan tried to think of a lie that would explain why he hadn’t gotten on his computer to message Phil and then proceeded to spend half an hour concocting another series of half-truths that _weren’t even necessary_. God he was such a fail. But by this point, he was committed to the lie. 

He texted Filly late into the night, steering the conversation away from himself and toward Filly’s thumb injury. Eventually Filly fell asleep—he did that often when they talked this late—and so Dan forced himself to try to sleep and get back on a normal-for-Dan sleep schedule.

* * *

Dan woke the next day to the sound of Adrian slamming his door and his father’s stern voice. He covered his head with a pillow and wished for the ten thousandth time he could just have had his shit together so he wouldn’t have gotten stuck like a total loser living with his parents at nineteen. He tried to go back to sleep—it was only eight for fuck’s sake—but sleep eluded him. Probably his Asda early-as-fuck shifts being carved into his soul. Not that people had souls but like, whatever. Sayings were easier than thinking about how electrical impulses or neurons worked. Fuck that noise. 

His phone buzzed once and he ignored it. Who the fuck on earth would dare text him at this hour? But then it buzzed again, and a third time. 

Bleary-eyed and annoyed, he grabbed his phone, accidentally yanking it off its charger, only to be met by a series of texts from _Phil_. Dan sat up, looked around his room and then pinched himself. He didn’t think this was an alternate universe but, like. Was this a universe where Phil _actually_ texted him, barely two days after they met no less??

 _Is it too soon to text?_ the first text read. Then, _Ok it definitely is. Too late._ Dan smiled wide. _Fuck, I’m owning it now. Hi._

_hi_ Dan texted back quickly to put Phil out of his misery before he got more anxious texts. They were cute and all but probably not on Phil’s end. _not too soon was asleep is all_

 _Fuck it’s early, shit._

_I’m sorry I was like, so nervous I just went for it_

_Oh god i sound like such a loser now_

_Phil_ Dan interrupted. _it’s fine. hi_

Maybe he still couldn’t quite believe Phil was actually texting him but the fact that Phil was so nervous was actually a balm for Dan’s nerves. 

_So I know it might be like, too soon, but idk the rules and just wanted to text._

_idk the rules either_ Dan admitted. _glad u did tho can i admit sth?_ Fuck, Dan was actually gonna do this. 

_def_ Phil said. _I’m assuming there was supposed to be punctuation in there._

 _punctuation is for the weak_ Dan replied. He took a breath. _i was dead sure u weren’t actually going to contact me_

_what? Wait rlly?_

What could Dan even say to that? ‘You’re way out of my league’ or ‘have you seen yourself?’ ‘Have you hung out with yourself?’ Like who even said that? 

_well yeah?_ was what he settled for. Dan buried his head in his pillow. 

_I think I’m flattered?_

_Definitely be flattered_ Dan texted. His heart was pounding hard and fast. _is it too much if i admit im hella flattered?_

 _Can *I* admit something?_

_yeah of course_

_I’m really flattered that ur flattered._

Jesus on a platter, thank god no one was there to see how Dan’s face went brilliant red with his smile. 

_OK so while we’re admitting stuff and before I lose my nerve do u maybe wanna like, do a thing?_ Phil texted.

 _a thing? wow so soon, what kind of boy do you take me for?_

Dan giggled; maybe with anyone else, especially someone he barely knew, Dan wouldn’t go for his natural humor. He already knew, somehow, that Phil would get it. 

_u wish_ Phil responded, eliciting a delighted laugh from Dan. _No I meant like, a movie or something?_

Dan paused and took a breath. He wanted to say yes so, so badly but like, he’d have to go to London. He’d already sort of implied that he lived there by avoiding Phil’s questions. And Phil like, lived on his own in his own apartment. He had degrees. Like, not just one. He was fucking smart and a grown up and Dan was a kid stuck in his childhood bedroom hiding from his parents. 

_Damn, too soon again?_ Phil texted, jolting Dan out of his panic. 

_No! No. I want to. I just have a lot of work this week._ Dan grasped at straws. 

It was technically sort of true. He _had_ signed up for an extra shift this week which meant he was working more than usual. 

_That’s cool! I can’t really either until next week_ Phil responded.

Dan rolled onto his back and resisted the urge to kick his feet with delight. Next week he could totally do. He’d be getting a paycheck by then too, which would help with the cost of tickets. 

_is wed a weird day?_ Dan held his breath. He didn’t work Thursday and he’d definitely be off Wednesday’s shift in time to make it to London by evening. 

_In general, it’s a 7/10 on the weird scale, but mostly bc apparently ppl r supposed to hump on it._ Dan almost fell out of bed laughing. Phil texted again, _:) but no, def not. That’s perfect!_

Dan stared at the exclamation point for what was probably too long. He was going on a date. On a _date_. With a guy. Oh fuck, he didn’t know how to do that! Jesus, what if he sucked at dating? He’d really not been the best boyfriend to his high school girlfriend. He’d like to believe that was him being young, confused about himself, and in a shitty situation. But like. He only really knew how to hook up with guys while off his tits on Smirnoff, which was the _opposite_ of the impression he wanted to give Phil. 

_I’ll plan everything. Since I asked_ Phil said. Then, _Wait unless that seems controlling_

 _Phil_ Dan took a breath. chill it’s cool. 

_yeah?_

_yeah. def._ He wanted to assure Phil that it was cute, that it helped Dan to know Phil was just as unsure as he was. 

_Is now the right time to tell you my epic story of trying to get home after Pride with a group of leather daddies in the tube?_ Phil texted. 

Dan settled into his pillows comfortably and smiled. He’d learned during their ridiculously long coffee date (he didn’t know if it was technically a date, but he’d taken to calling it that in his mind and no one could take that away from him, fuck that noise) that Phil was a fantastic story teller. He was funny and unafraid to make fun of himself in a light hearted and endearing way. He was also really hilarious. _tell me everything_

* * *

_Fire what is ur deal?_ Filly messaged him Monday night. Dan had maybe gone on another rant on a fairly calm—but wrong—Reddit board. _excuse the bad pun but ur on fire. Like the bad kind_

_ugh too much?_ Dan bit his lip nervously. He opened his post back up to re-read it. 

_well…_

_shitsticks, ur right_

The post _was_ rather rude. And well, Dan didn’t mind arguing but generally he prided himself on being a good person. Despite the fact that the post had replies, Dan deleted it. 

_srls u ok?_

Dan wasn’t, was the thing. The closer Wednesday loomed, the more anxious Dan had become . The longer he stewed in his nerves with no one to talk to, the more he imagined all the ways the date could go wrong. At this point, his imagination had completely spiraled out of the realm of reality. 

_so ok can i talk to u?_

_Fire, literally always. U know that._

_i kinda have a date this week_

_That’s awesome!_

_yeah but i’m freaking out_

Dan realized he was biting his lip too hard and forced himself to stop. He contemplated writing an apology post on that Reddit thread. It seemed a lot of effort for a bunch of strangers. 

_y?_

Dan took a deep breath and then another. This was okay. Filly already knew he was like, gay or queer or something. Literally other than the friends he’d made at Pride, who still somehow were texting him, and Phil, no one else knew about him. He really didn’t know Sean well enough to expose this level of anxiety at this point. Filly though—he’d never judged Dan or been anything but truly supportive of him. 

_bc it’s with a guy_

_OMG! That’s amazing! Achievement unlocked_

_rlly?_

_yeah!!! It’s a bit step._

_*big step_

Dan smiled. Filly always corrected his typos, which Dan could never be arsed to do. It was such a Filly thing to do. 

_So y u so nervous? Specifically. Maybe I can help._

_idk what if i suck at dating guys i don’t exactly have the best track record with girls_

_Fire, u were young. I think we all kind of suck at relationships at first. That’s how we learn. And IDK. I’ve never dated a girl. I’ve barely dated tbh. But I don't know that it has to be different? Just be yourself?_

_omg u r so cheesy_

_Gross, I hate cheese. But idk. I mean I get nervous too!_

_you hate cheese???_

_I know, I know. Are you going to stop being my friend?_

_nope i will q ur sanity tho_

_oh well that’s fine_ Filly said _don’t you have any weird things?_

 _idk i’m scared of the dark?_

Dan closed Reddit. He’d already fucked up and wasn’t in the state of mind to even try to fix the shitstorm he may or may not have inadvertently started. 

_Well, that’s not weird that’s just embarrassing._

Dan snorted. _fuck off asshole_

_XD Don’t worry about it we all have irrational fears._

_oh? like?_

_I’m scared of horses. Just. Their legs. Their big heads_

_...._

_What?_

_mate if ur scared of horses why is your name Filly???_

_Fuck me sideways, I never thought of that_

Dan was too busy muffling his laughter to respond for a long time. His phone chimed, and then again. He wiped his eyes. 

_Ok that is embarrassing._ Filly admitted. _But we’ve digressed. Tell me about your nerves_

_Ur date nerves I mean_

Dan took a breath and let himself really focus on figuring out what it was, specifically he was so scared of. He wasn’t quite comfortable asking Filly about some...things. Intimate things. But other worries, yeah. 

_what if we have nothing to talk about?_

_Hey Fire, why can’t melons get married?_

_wtf u on about?_

_bc they cantaloupe!_

_ohmygodno Filly you did not_

_How can a leopard change his spots?_

_Filly stop pls i beg u_

_by moving_

Despite himself, Dan giggled. 

_y r u doing this 2 me???_ he texted. 

_Hey, i made a pencil with two erasers!_

Dan paused. It was the kind of statement Filly would make in general sometimes because Filly was often odd and funny and creative. 

_u did?_ Dan asked tentatively. 

_Yeah. It was pointless._

It was awful but Dan positively cackled with laughter. _you are such a hammer_ he messaged. 

_a hammer???_

_well it’s better than a screwdriver and ur definitely a tool_

There was a long pause before Filly responded _u just made me cry laugh ur such an asshole_

_::takes a bow::_ Dan was still laughing, and so thankful because he felt so much better. _but rrl what’s w the jokes?_

_icebreakers_ Filly said instantly. _I like to have them in case conversation like, stalls or it gets awkward. I thought I’d share some favourites._

_favourites as in you know more?_

_I have a treasure trove of them_

_for fucks sake don’t ever say treasure trove again_

Dan covered his mouth. It was late and he’d been chastised before for waking his family up with his laugh. He couldn’t help it—his real laugh, the unexpected one or the really delighted one—was loud and uninhibited. Filly tended to bring that out in him. 

_Don’t v jealous just bc you don’t have a treasure trove_

_*Be_

_pls, my treasure trove is the shit of legends_ Dan settled into his chair, easy banter keeping him up into the night. 

He fell asleep that night still giggling from time to time, remembering those jokes. When he did think about what Wednesday might hold, he could only laugh. He’d never use one of Filly’s terrible lines, but imagining himself doing it was enough to make him smile. Dan was so thankful, then, to have a friend like Filly, even if they’d never met and didn’t even know so much as each other’s names. What they had was a friendship Dan never imagined he’d have in his life. The rest were details that didn’t matter.

* * *

“Wow, holy cow,” Phil said the moment Dan rounded the corner and found him outside the restaurant Phil had given him the address for. “You look…” 

Dan kicked the ground and bit his lip before flashing Phil a small smile. “Yeah. I mean—not about me. You! You look—oh _fuck_. Did you just really say ‘holy cow’?” 

“Oh, my god, you are just as I remembered,” Phil said, but so fondly it felt like a compliment. Phil took Dan’s elbow lightly and led him toward the door of the restaurant and promptly tripped. Dan caught him just a breath away from hitting his head on a wall. 

“Are you okay?” he managed through laughter. He knew it wasn’t polite but damn, it was cute. 

“Other than the damage to my pride and completely blowing the image of a smooth, actually put together adult I wanted to portray? Totally fine.” Phil said. He fiddled with his hair, fluffing and then calming it in a move Dan already knew as a nervous tick. Butterflies swarmed in his belly. 

“Don’t worry, I already knew you weren’t smooth,” Dan said. “I don’t think I like smooth, anyway.” 

Phil looked at him then, really looked. They were blocking the entrance of the restaurant but Dan was caught taking in the wide blue of Phil’s eyes, the way meeting them brought a warmth from his toes to his fingers, made him want to do something stupid and impulsive. Made him ache to slip his arms around Phil’s slim waist and bite, just lightly, on his lower lip. 

“Excuse me?” A nicely dressed lady and her companion broke the tension from behind them. “This is lovely to watch, but we’re also rather hungry.” 

“Oh, god I am so sorry,” Dan said. “Excuse us.” He motioned for them to pass. He caught the wink the woman sent him, then on a second glance, took in the elegance of the dress she was wearing. 

“You’re so polite,” Phil noted. 

“My Nan would have my head if I was rude to a nice lady in a restaurant,” Dan said distractedly. “Phil, I’m not dressed appropriately at all.” He was wearing his most expensive button up shirt, one that was a designer knock-off with a black lace pattern over white. He’d found it at the shops one day when buying a mother’s day gift and bought it on impulse. He’d never have bought it with mates. Hell even six months before, pre-Filly, pre-beginning to try to deprogram his fears of self-expression, he wouldn’t have even looked at it. Sure, he’d immediately hid it in his wardrobe and never brought it out again, but he thought of it from time to time, and wished for a day when he _could_ or _might_ be brave enough to wear it. 

He’d paired it with white skinny jeans and black trainers. They were his nicest jeans but definitely not that formal. 

“Don’t be fussed,” Phil assured him. “I’ve been here before. It’s the kind of place where you’ll see all sorts. And I think you look…” He did the thing again, the one where he scanned Dan, toes to eyes, only more slowly. Dan’s cheeks were positively on fire. “Amazing.” 

“You,” Dan croaked. He wanted to say thank you but that _I need to kiss you_ feeling was back and this was definitely not the place or time. Phil was in a blue button up Dan wasn’t sure the color of—like teal but darker—and painted on black trousers. The top button of the shirt was undone, which was low enough for Dan to catch a tiny hint of chest hair. Goosebumps prickled all up Dan’s arms. 

“We should move, shouldn’t we?” Phil said softly. Dan nodded. None of the scenarios he’s conjured for this date—the anxiety fueled ones or the late night daydreams—included the two of them eyeing each other up for fifteen minutes in the entrance of a much-nicer than expected restaurant. 

“Lester,” Phil told the hostess. And okay, the way he did that _was_ totally smooth. Dan had never made a reservation at what was obviously a very nice restaurant, much less acted like a grown-up while taking a date to one. It really, actually hit Dan that for all of Phil’s quirks and occasional clumsiness and his boyish excitement over things like Pokemon and video games, he was almost five years older. Dan was still a _fucking_ teenager. He stuffed his hands in his pockets and internally yelled at the nerves insisting he was completely out of place and an imposter. That Phil would realize Dan was absolutely not worth this kind of attention or time. Phil had asked him on a fucking _date_ and brought him _here_ and for once Dan’s brain needed to STFU and let him enjoy something. 

Once they were sat, there was lull in their conversation, mostly because Dan was still overcome with nerves and internally yelling at himself. He found himself messing with his hair and then actively had to stop himself from excusing himself to go to the bathroom so he could fix it. He didn’t have the same kind of hair as Phil, which just like, _fell_ perfectly the way Dan wished his own would. 

“You look nice,” Phil said, softly, and Dan knew Phil didn’t mean his clothes this time. 

“Ugh, my hair,” Dan complained. “I wish I had your hair.” 

“Dan, I think we basically have the same haircut,” Phil pointed out. 

“You have straight hair right?” Dan asked. “I can tell.” 

“You don’t?” Phil’s eyebrows shot up. Dan was interrupted from responding by the waiter arriving to greet them. 

After ordering drinks—Dan ordered wine he wasn’t even sure he’d like but that he thought might make him appear more sophisticated, and Phil a fruity cocktail Dan was instantly jealous of—Phil steered them right back to Dan’s hair. 

“So wait, how curly, really?” 

“Like, awful,” Dan said. 

“I don’t believe that for a minute!” Phil said. “I bet it’s adorable.” 

“God, no really.” Dan played with the napkin on his lap nervously.

“Do you have any pictures? I need to see this.”

“Well,” Dan bit his lip. He did have the one he’d taken for his Dailybooth account. He didn’t really want to share the account information with Phil because...of other things. But he supposed he could show him that picture. It wasn’t bad. It was kind of suggestive though, and Dan didn’t know if it would be _too_ suggestive for this context. 

Then again he was on a _date_ with a super hot, funny, quirky guy. Dan sighed and pulled out his phone. 

“You can’t judge me okay? I took this a while ago for a social media thing and I might have been trying a bit too hard. So just...only look at the hair.” 

Phil took the phone and stared at the picture for so long Dan started to fidget. Phil’s eyes flickered up to meet his before looking back down. He cleared his throat. 

“You should try hard all the time,” he said. Dan laughed when Phil groaned. “Not that you don’t look amazing right now! Or like you aren’t trying hard! I just meant, this is...wow. _Wow_. What are you even doing on a date with me?” 

“Oh, my god, shut up.” Dan took the phone back. 

“Hey Dan?” Phil fiddled with the corner of the menu on the table in front of him. “Thanks for coming out with me.” 

Utterly charmed by Phil’s sudden shyness, Dan couldn’t help but smile. “Same.” 

Phil’s smile was so bright it made something ache deep in Dan’s belly. Phil seemed so happy, so unencumbered by the brand of nerves Dan was feeling. Well. He assumed. Dan kind of knew he needed to work on that. It was just...he knew Phil had been out for a while based on their previous conversation. For a wild and slightly impulsive minute he wanted to tell Phil how this was his first real date with a guy, how he was such a baby queer and so, so new to this all. He swallowed the words down, otherwise he had the feeling the date would devolve into a mess of nerves and uncertainty and “I like you, no, I like _you_.” He really wanted to get to _know_ Phil. Wanted to know if what he was feeling was more than just the start of a silly infatuation and full blown lust. 

“So Phil,” Dan began, only to be interrupted by the waiter, again, inquiring about their orders. Dan had barely looked at the man, and neither had Phil. Phil met his eyes before asking for a few more minutes, and Dan felt that look all the way through his body, because it had been...it had been some kind of silent communication, but a real kind. Like they both just knew how to read each other. It wasn’t like Phil was presuming anything, and even without nodding, Dan had been able to communicate that he needed time too. 

What the fuck even was that? Dan barely had friends who understood him when he used all of his words, much less none and no body language. 

“Okay put that thought on hold,” Dan said. “Inquisition to come. Food first, I’m starving.” 

“Oh, thank god me too,” Phil said. They perused in silence, and when the waiter re-materialized, ended up ordering the same item on the menu. Dan had to stifle a giggle, because this didn’t seem to be the kind of place for his too-loud laugh. 

“Why do I feel like you’re holding that back?” Phil asked. 

“Holding what back?” Dan sipped his wine tentatively. It was nice. A little sweet, which was good. Dan knew nothing about wine other than that he preferred sweeter ones, and usually when he’d been given those they were a white or pinkish one. Rosé seemed like the most apt word to describe that and he’d gotten it right. 

“Your laugh,” Phil said. 

“Because I laugh like a hyena. It’s very loud and not at all dignified.” 

Phil paused for a minute, then shook his head. “I definitely want to hear this then,” he said. “Mission for the night.” 

“Oh, fuck, we’ll get booted for sure.” 

“Well maybe after, then.” Phil said. 

“After?” Dan said, faintly. Was Phil assuming this was going… _there_? Did or would Dan object if it would? 

“Yeah there’s somewhere else I wanted to take you, if that’s okay?” Phil looked up. “Oh, _god_ , no not like that! I mean in the city!” 

“Oh.” Dan spun his wine glass around, lost for words. He wished there _were_ words that would reassure Phil he wasn’t offended but which wouldn’t also imply anything on his end, considering that he had no idea what or if he wanted to imply anything in the first place. 

God, Dan and his fear of implications. He was irritating himself. 

“Yes, I’d love to go somewhere, if you want to take me. And if it’s laughter appropriate and if you’re as funny as you think, maybe you’ll get your mission accomplished.” 

Phil winked at him, only he apparently couldn’t really wink. It was so adorably fail though, like a slow and lopsided blink, Dan couldn’t hold back a soft, fond laugh. 

“I know, I know,” Phil said. 

“All right,” Dan said. “Now that we have a moment. Back to business. So, Phil.”

“Yes,” Phil said, placing an elbow on the table and leaning forward a bit. 

“Tell me your story.” 

“The entire thing? Gosh. So, a long, long, _way_ too long time ago, my Mum and Dad were foolish enough to think that a second child would be as easy as their first,” Phil began. And while Dan hadn’t really meant he wanted Phil’s entire life story, he was happy to sit through dinner, laughing harder and harder as Phil told him about himself; what a weird kid he was, how odd he was and how he’d never really felt like he fit in even though he’d always flown under the radar. He sounded creative and different when he talked about his interests in film making and the silly movies he used to make as a kid. He also sounded like someone who’d gotten through school without the constant targeted bullying Dan had. 

It was odd, how someone so interesting, someone Dan so instantly liked, could make him feel both jealous and happy. Happy that Phil hadn’t had to go through what Dan had. But Dan couldn’t help but wonder how much more well adjusted he would be, without everything he’d gone through. 

Luckily Phil kept him engaged and laughing through dinner with story after story Dan prompted out of him. At one point, while they contemplated the dessert menu, Phil paused. “All I’ve done is talk about me, I’m such a twat.”

“I liked it,” Dan said without any of the shyness he might have earlier in the night. “I want to hear all of your stories.” 

Phil put down the dessert menu and gave him another one of those looks, the long and assessing ones Dan was beginning to think were just normal for Phil. 

“Was that too much, too soon?” Dan asked. “I’m not used to this sort of thing.” He didn’t specify what he meant but he’d bet Phil understood what he meant. 

“I think maybe for some people it would be. But it doesn’t feel like that. For me.” 

Dan smiled, and it was wide and unfettered and his real, all-the-way-to-his-eyes smile. “Me either.” 

“So we’ll talk about you now.” 

“Well, maybe after dessert,” Dan hedged. “I won’t lie, I can be pretty focused when it comes to chocolate.” 

“Yeee,” Phil agreed. 

They spoke minimally during dessert, mostly about said dessert, which was perfect. Partly because Dan was having the most orgasmic chocolate related moment _ever_ , but also because at some point, Phil’s feet had bumped into his. He’d apologized and Dan had made a joke about long bodies at small tables. But when Phil had gone to pull away, Dan had summoned some kind of bravery—what he was coming to think of as his London Dan bravery—and wrapped his ankles around Phil’s to keep them in contact. Phil had smiled, a warm smile that Dan had filed away for later...thoughts. They’d kept their feet like that, wrapped up, a delicious secret that spoke to promises of something more for the rest of the meal. 

Dan had no idea what that more was, but the longer they sat there, the longer Phil fucking enchanted the shit out of him, the more Dan knew that there was definitely some _more_ on the horizon. 

They didn’t hold hands as they left the restaurant and headed toward Phil’s second secret date location, but Phil bumped his hand against Dan’s a couple of times on the way. Dan made sure to bump back, to look at Phil deliberately when he did, communicating that he _would_ in another life, in another place, one where he’d feel safer. 

“How are you with heights?” Phil asked. 

“Fine? We’re not going bungee jumping at _this_ time are we?” Dan asked. He forgot himself for a moment and pushed his hair off his forehead. It was evening but still June-warm. It had been a hot day, and the night hadn’t brought much relief. Dan didn’t want sweat to bring out any curls, and pushing his hair back was a reflex. When Phil looked at him next, to indicate they would turn left at the next corner, his eyes lingered and Dan swore, then pushed his hair back down. 

“You don’t have to do that, y’know,” Phil said. Traffic rushed around them and up ahead Dan could see the London Eye casting brilliant light over the night. “You look good no matter what.” 

“You’ve never seen me first thing in the morning,” Dan mumbled, then blushed. 

“I wou-” Phil cut himself off and laughed. “Shut me up now before I say something I shouldn’t.” 

“Maybe I don’t want you to,” Dan said. He’d aimed for flirty, but a bit of his nerves, that uncertainty in what he was doing, filtered through. 

“We’ll figure it out,” Phil said so kindly Dan wished, really wished, he were brave enough to take Phil’s hand. 

“I’m sorry. I’m just really new to this,” Dan said, softly. 

“Dan,” Phil stopped, turning to look at him. Light spilled across his face, highlighting the prominence of his cheekbones, his nose, casting his too-lovely eyes into shadow. “Don’t ever apologize for that. There’s never timelines on how we live our lives, even when we’re not figuring ourselves out. You’re here. I hope you’re enjoying yourself. That you’re happy right now.” 

“I am,” Dan said, breathless and warm. “I _so_ am.”

“Good.” Phil smiled, and turned again. Dan followed helplessly and thought how he might follow Phil anywhere, given enough time and the chance to fall for him. “Fancy a ride on the eye?”

“Fuck yeah,” Dan said. 

“You ever been?”

“No,” Dan said, quickly reminded that London Dan was actually a ruse. He really, _really_ liked Phil, which meant, if Phil liked him back he’d have to confess to being a loser who lived in his parent’s house in an entirely different town. Fuck. He hoped, hard, Phil might still like him after that little nugget of truth came out. 

They entered the eye and found a spot Phil said would be best. Despite the other people in the car with them, with Phil beside him looking over London, Dan felt like they were alone in a suspended moment. Phil wrapped his pinky around Dan’s, and Dan’s breath caught. He held it, then bit his lip and slowly slid his fingers between Phil’s until they were fully holding hands. The smile Phil sent him was worth all of the residual fear curled in Dan’s belly. 

London glittered before him, and inside him bloomed something brighter, something hot and hopefully and beautiful. More than anything, Dan wanted to kiss Phil. Phil’s eyes were on Dan’s lips; they lingered and Phil’s breath hitched when Dan ran his thumb across the back of his knuckles. He couldn’t, he _couldn’t_ , but that look, that moment, that breath and pause before a fall that Dan now knew was an inevitably, was as good as any kiss—hell, better—Dan had ever had. 

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it,” Phil murmured. Dan didn’t know if he meant London or this moment or all of it. It didn’t matter really. 

“It really is,” Dan said. He turned back to look over the city, and then in a moment of bravery, tilted his head to rest on Phil’s shoulder. Like this, he couldn’t see any looks they might be getting. He couldn’t see any judgment. He could smell Phil, that citrus he’d smelled during that hug at Pride. It wasn’t mixed with the sweat of a balls hot day, so Dan could tell how delicate it really was. He wanted to bury his face in Phil’s neck again, to lap that up. 

Fuck, he was a goner.

After, still in a haze of lust and longing and so many fond, happy feelings, Dan was so distracted he turned down a random street, and then paused when he realized Phil was just following him without question. 

“Er,” Dan said. They were still holding hands. He had no idea where on earth they were. 

“Where are we going?” Phil asked. 

_FuckFuckFuck_. Everything was going so well, Dan should have known the other shoe was going to drop. 

“I...have no idea. You—you’re kind of distracting. In a good way!”

“Oh, okay. So. Do you have to go? I know last time you said you work early shifts,” Phil said. 

“No, no I don’t have to go yet.” 

“Let’s...I don’t want the night to end, and I realize that might be embarrassing to admit under normal circumstances but I honestly don’t care.” 

“You really, really do not need to apologize for wanting to spend more time together,” Dan said. 

“So I'm not like, huge on the clubbing thing, but there’s a bar we can go to? It’s queer friendly.” 

Dan exhaled. He’d been sure for a moment Phil was about to invite him back to his place. He wasn’t sure if he was relieved or disappointed, but he definitely was willing to stretch this night as far as he could, as long as he could, and soak up every second of Phil’s presence. “That sounds awesome. I’ve never been to a gay bar. Queer bar. Whatever.” 

“Really?” Phil looked positively delighted. “Aw, I get to pop your gay-bar cherry!” 

“Oh my god you did not just—” 

Phil giggled, way too adorably, “I totally did. C’mon.” He led them toward an underground station, where Dan tried to act like he was totally used to doing the London underground thing (he wasn’t. He so wasn’t. He was frankly terrified of the underground thing). Luckily Phil didn’t notice, being too distracted by a woman who had walked past him, woofed in his ear and kept going. 

“That—did that just happen?” Dan asked, incredulous. 

“I don’t know what it is about me, but that sort of thing happens all the time, I swear!” Phil said, still rubbing his ear as if it had been touched. 

“That can’t possibly—” Dan started, but then Phil was tugging him onto the train and they were trying to situate themselves in a cramped space without being too close. Dan didn’t say much after that. Speaking, even normal conversation, felt personal with so many bodies around them. Phil didn’t seem to notice. He was busy people watching, eyes lighting up as he took in everything around him.

They were still mostly quiet when they exited. Eventually, Phil broke the silence. Dan listened as Phil began to talk, weaving imaginary stories about the people he’d seen on the train. It was nervous chatter, Dan could tell. Phil was more touchy too, poking Dan’s shoulder to emphasize a point, and even clawing at him and making tame lion sounds—what he called it—as he did. 

“Oh, gosh, I—” Phil said as soon as he did it. 

“Phil,” Dan interrupted. He brushed against Phil deliberately. His hands were in his pockets, mostly to keep himself from taking Phil’s hand again. He wasn’t familiar with London, or with what was okay, where, in London. “I _like_ you.” 

He admitted it simply, more simply than he thought he’d might. Or he would have, were he thinking ahead. But he wasn’t. He didn’t overthink and he wasn’t over planning and he wasn’t embarrassed to admit it. 

“Yeah?” Phil shrugged and smiled and bumped back. Dan wondered how many ways they could find to say _I like you_ and have it mean many, many different things. What it meant that he was sure he would know what each _I like you_ meant. 

“Well,” Phil said a bit later. “Here we are. You ready?” 

“You utter fork, let’s just go in.”

Phil faltered, looking at Dan in that odd way he had in the restaurant. “What?” Dan asked self-consciously.

“Nothing,” Phil shook his head and smiled. “Nothing, just déjà vu.” 

“Oh. I hate that,” Dan said. “I always feel like I'm forgetting something important.” 

“Really? I’ve always thought it means past-life Phil is telling me something.” 

Dan laughed, loud and delighted. “Past-life Phil?” 

“I got it!” Phil exclaimed. 

“What?” Dan said, distracted by the sure way Phil put his hand on Dan’s lower back as they were led to a table in the corner of a crowded bar. 

“Your real laugh! Mission accomplished. Achievement unlocked!” 

The back of Dan’s neck prickled, his own sense of déjà vu sweeping over him. He shook his head and sat. Phil sat next to him, close, and Dan was immediately distracted from his thoughts. Phil’s hand was on his knee and his shoulder was right up against Dan’s and Dan’s immediate instinct was to pull away in fear. But when he looked around, expecting to see judgment, he found...nothing. 

Well not nothing. Kind of _everything_ , actually. No one staring, no one pointing or whispering. Noticing this made Dan conscious that _he_ was staring. But he couldn’t help it. 

“It’s awesome, isn’t it?” Phil said quietly. 

“What?” Dan said, pulling his eyes back from the couple at the bar, two beautiful girls kissing with soft affection and absolutely no fear or tension in the lines of their bodies. 

“Feeling like you can just breathe,” Phil said simply. And that was it. That was it exactly. It was and it wasn’t like Pride. Dan had felt suffused with hope and celebration and happiness at Pride. And maybe he kind of felt all of those things now, but they were different. Here, Dan felt like he could be a quiet sort of happy. A quietly happy boy who could take Phil’s hand and not feel even the smallest bit scared if he wanted to. 

“Thank you,” he said as softly as Phil had spoken. Phil’s smile was so understanding and sweet, Dan had to clench his hands into fists to keep himself from kissing him. They stared at each other for a long, long beat, before Phil cleared his throat. 

“D’you want a drink?” he asked, voice so low it sent shivers rolling down Dan’s spine. He nodded. “I can’t promise the wine here’ll be good,” Phil started. 

“No. Get me something you’d like. Yours at dinner looked good,” Dan said. Phil laughed and stood, heading over to the bar and for the first time in a long time, Dan felt absolutely no self-consciousness or fear in unabashedly staring at a boy's ass in public. It really was a spectacular ass.

* * *

One drink, half an hour of flirting and an increase in patrons at the bar—along with a rise in noise level and a lessening of inhibitions among the crowd—later and Dan was sure of one thing. He absolutely could not go home without kissing Phil. Not because he didn’t think he’d see Phil again. Assuming Phil managed to get over the whole “I live at home and not here” confession, Dan could already tell they had a connection that surpassed anything he’d ever experienced before. The night, this perfect night, demanded it. 

Well, and so did Dan’s body. 

Although he knew he _wanted_ to kiss Phil, that he would, he wasn’t planning on doing it in the middle of a bar. 

Life was like that, though, he supposed later. Full of surprises. 

“Another?” Phil had asked, poking Dan’s empty glass and almost knocking it over. 

“No, oh watch it, ah!” Dan caught it just before it spilled over. There were the final dregs of what had turned out to be a very sweet, very blue, drink still in the glass. Dan didn’t much fancy ruining his white jeans. He laughed through the exclamation. Laughed loud and so brightly happy and Phil, despite it all, was giggling too, leaning into Dan’s space, curled up and covering his mouth with his hands. 

He had nudged Phil back. Not because he didn’t like Phil in his space, but because all of it, Phil’s utter Phil-ness, Phil’s giggle and the way his nose scrunched up with it, Phil’s citrus smell and lovely skin and so tempting mouth were all just too much. 

Dan hadn’t planned to kiss Phil then, but he did. 

It was soft, innocent and careful for all of five seconds. A little bolder and more exploratory for a bit longer. But then Phil’s fingers were curling in Dan’s hair, cupping the back of his head, and his other hand was warm palmed and wide on Dan’s thigh and Dan’s fingers were gripping the lapels of Phil’s button up and it was nothing, _nothing_ like innocent. 

Dan couldn't have guessed at how long that part lasted. He could taste the coconut in Phil’s drink on his tongue. Phil gripped Dan’s thigh, hard, and Dan thought he might faint from the surge of need that swept through him. God only knew what he might have let happen then, were it not for the good natured and loud catcalls that pulled them out of the moment and away from each other. Dan covered his face and laughed into his palms; thankfully no one was jeering. Instead, he felt a kind of camaraderie, a special buzz in a room full of people who had few places they could go and be completely free and unafraid and affectionate—or a tiny bit more than—in public. 

Phil’s forehead was against Dan’s shoulder and Dan’s whole body was something between a tingling, throbbing mess and he wouldn’t have traded this moment for any in the world, ever, ever, ever. 

“Would you judge me if I said I really wish we could take this somewhere else?” Dan whispered.

“Dan, _oh god_ , I really, really wish I could ask you to come home with me.” Phil’s voice was as shaky as Dan felt, but low and graveled and fuck, Dan could only imagine how he would sound in bed. “But I kind of...can’t.” 

“I can't ei-wait, why not?” Dan’s horny brain took a few seconds to catch up to the changing tone in Phil’s voice. 

“Well, the thing is,” Phil said, then pulled away completely. “I don’t want you to be mad at me. I just like you so much.” 

Dread curled in Dan’s stomach. “And?” Already he was imagining about four hundred confessions Phil might make and none of them were good. 

“I don’t live in London,” Phil squeaked, hiding behind his hands. “I live in Manchester.”

“What?” Dan said, brain still kiss-stupid and, apparenlty, processing very slowly.

“I...well I’m moving here, like, _really_ soon. I was in town for Pride for a job interview. I just...I didn't tell anyone but my mates because I’m really superstitious.” 

“Okay,” Dan said slowly. 

“And I had a second interview this week, so I’m crashing with them. My mates I mean, not the people at the BBC,” Phil rambled. 

“The BBC? Phil that’s amazing!” Dan said, completely sidetracked. “Fuck, did you get it?” 

“Yeah,” Phil smiled widely before remembering he was supposedly confessing something terrible. Because he had no way of realizing that even his confession was a happy relief for Dan. 

“Phil, really, that’s so incredible. I’m so proud of you,” Dan said, and meant it. He kissed Phil, a quick peck that was delightfully new and somehow so familiar. 

“I’m sorry I lied though,” Phil said.

“We-ellll,” Dan started. 

“What?” Phil said, alarm clear in his voice. 

“You didn’t really lie, right? I mean I never actually asked if you lived in London,” Dan hedged. 

“I guess so,” Phil said, “But I-I don’t want you to think I am a liar. Even a liar by omission.” 

Dan’s gut clenched at that. “Phil I have to make a confession too,” he blurted out. Phil blinked. “I don’t live in London either.” 

“Wait, what?” Phil did a double-take. “How is that—” 

“I’m sorry too!” Dan said, feeling awful, especially because while he never _meant_ to be a liar, he did have that awful tendency to back himself into corners. And okay, that had nothing to do with _this_ really, but still. “It’s just, I didn’t want you to think I’m a total loser.” 

“Why would I think that?” Phil said. “You keep saying that about yourself but I don’t get it.”

“Because I still live at home with my parents. In Reading. I’m saving money working at Asda but at this rate I’ll be at home forever. I have no idea what I want to do with my life.” 

“Dan, that’s okay! You’re ninteen, fuck how is anyone supposed to know what they want at that age?” 

“Phil, at my age you were at uni. You have a master’s degree!” Dan cried out. 

“That’s just paper Dan. That’s like, not even what I’m going to be doing at my job. It’s all just circumstance.” 

“Ugh,” Dan moaned, then rested his head on Phil’s shoulder, forgetting for a moment that they’d entered a weird confessional portion of the evening he had not really been expecting. Well, not on Phil’s end. 

“Did you say you live in Reading?” Phil said suddenly. 

“Yeah?” Dan sat back and looked at Phil, who looked like he was thinking very hard. “Why?” 

Phil turned to look at him, a long and assessing look. Dan played with his hair and then twisted his fingers nervously. Only Phil’s palm settling on Dan’s bouncing knee kept him from freaking out that Phil was suddenly changing his mind about him. 

“Phil?” Dan prompted. 

“Nothing,” Phil said, expression clearing. His lips quirked. “So, uh—” 

“Yeah.” Dan looked down at the table, then untwisted his fingers. “We kind of suck at the truth huh?” 

“Didn’t you just say that they weren’t exactly lies?” Phil said. 

“Yeah,” Dan said. He picked at a hangnail. “But like, still. I don’t know,” he was mumbling, afraid to look back up at Phil, afraid to try to figure out what that little smile had meant. They sat in silence for several agonizing beats. 

“Hey, Dan,” Phil said suddenly. Dan looked up. “D’you know why melons can’t get married?” 

Dan literally, physically stopped breathing. Holy fuckballing _shit_. There was no way, right?

“Because they can’t elope?” Dan answered, question clear in his voice. Phil’s eyes lit up. “Phil. You said….you live— _wha-_ ”

“Great ice-breaker, innit?” Phil said, and now he was downright laughing. 

“ _Filly!?!_ ” Dan shrieked. He put his head in his hands. Phil was absolutely falling over with laughter. “How long have you—when did you figure it out?” Dan moaned. 

“Honestly, just now. When you said you live in Reading. The déjà vu...all night, it was killing me and I could not put my finger on it.” Phil gasped and tried to control his laughter. “I promise I’m not laughing at you, this is just inappropriate response syndrome.” 

“I’m going to need a minute,” Dan said. He was fighting a smile even as his mind whirled. 

“Are you upset?” Phil ventured more carefully. 

“No! I mean, like. déjà vu. You were so right. I can’t. My brain is broken. I...god I’ve felt like I’ve known you forever _this whole time_ and I actually kind of have!” 

“Well maybe not forever,” Phil capitulated. “But a long time. And like, take a minute if you need. I think I might need one too.” 

Dan grabbed Phil’s hand and squeezed it hard. “You’re not leaving me here alone with this are you? I can’t process this on my own, no one would ever get it.” 

“Not on your fucking life,” Phil promised. “I have, like, so many questions. Plus I really, really want to kiss you again.” 

“I’ll kiss you,” Dan managed to say, although now he was the one smiling and on the verge of laughter. “But only if you promise to never break out that treasure trove of bad jokes again.” 

“You love it,” Phil said, then leaned in for another kiss before Dan could respond. This time, Dan ignored the sounds of the bar and the absolute jumble of any feelings that weren’t _this, this, this_. Because he too had a million questions, but those could wait. 

After all, once he got home he knew he could message his friend Filly and break it all down with an all-night conversation.

* * *

It was late, later than Dan planned, by the time he was finally on a train home. He closed his eyes and swayed with the train, body still tingling from Phil’s kisses and touch. It was so quiet on the train and his brain was so, so loud. He had a swarm of feelings hot in his chest and mind, and so little capacity to process them. He had impulsive plans to visit Phil in Manchester in less than a week, hundreds of questions, and maybe, _maybe_ a boyfriend all of his own. But also, thankfully, a best friend to talk it all through with once he got home. 

Despite heckling Filly the night he’d given Dan advice about ice breakers, Dan had obsessively researched bad jokes, memorizing some for _just in case_. At no point that night had he felt like he needed to break the ice with Phil. But he was really fucking glad he had an arsenal of his own now.

With a smile he felt no need to hide, Dan pulled out his phone. 

_i’m learning about important dates in history_ he messaged Filly.

 _Oh?_

_yeah, wanna be one of them?_

**Author's Note:**

> feel free to visit and[reblog](https://judearaya.tumblr.com/post/622183715200696320) on tumblr! Comments make my day <3
> 
> Side note/Update as of January 2021--if you are reading this and would have interest in a sequel, drop me a note? I always wanted to revisit this one, but don't know if the story feels complete to everyone or if anyone else would want more?


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